


A Box of Space and Time

by Infinite_Monkeys



Series: Fun With Time Loops [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Gen, Gratuitous Movie References, Intentional Murder, Some Dark Humor, Temporary Character Death, Time Loop, accidental murder, some violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-03
Updated: 2019-03-03
Packaged: 2019-11-08 09:04:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17978378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Infinite_Monkeys/pseuds/Infinite_Monkeys
Summary: Time loops and awkward movie-watching adventures.A short companion piece toWith One More Try (Can We Start Again)





	A Box of Space and Time

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This took longer than I expected, but I don't have a good reason for that except that I am easily distracted by other projects. Credit for the idea goes to the awesome Noideasfornames, who is the entire reason this exists.
> 
> This takes place during the middle part of _With One More Try (Can We Start Again)_ , so if you haven't read that, I don't know how much sense this will make. 
> 
> This is a non-commercial work of fanfiction, and all the characters are owned by Marvel not me. I hope you enjoy!

For someone who had asked for him, specifically, Tony thought the alien didn't seem to like him particularly much.

When SHIELD had come and told him that a terrorist was asking to meet him and only him, like the shady government organization thought they were some sort of make-a-wish foundation for villains, he wasn't sure whether to expect rabid enthusiasm from a deranged fan or rabid hatred from a deranged enemy.

When he heard said terrorist was actually also an alien, he broadened his expectations to include pretty much anything.

Well, anything but what he actually found, which was a disappointingly normal-looking guy wearing something that looked like it could have come from a rich person's version of Hot Topic. To top it all off, the alien, Loki, didn't seem like a fan or an enemy. If anything, he seemed pretty ambivalent about Tony's existence, which begged the question of why he asked for him in the first place.

“Let's get this straight,” he said, after the alien used some sort of advanced technology (not magic, whatever he said) to take them back to Tony's place over Fury's protests. “You literally just want—”

“To watch one of your motion pictures,” he interrupted, and he sounded more exasperated than was probably warranted. “Yes.”

“So why—”

“Did I ask for you?” Okay, so that was unnerving. Either Tony was more predictable than he thought, or aliens could actually read minds. “Because Captain America is not stupid enough to agree to something this foolish,” he said. “Besides, his television is much smaller than yours.”

“Ouch. You know how to flatter a guy.”  

Loki shrugged. “You asked.”

“And you don't—”

“I have no interest in your technology. You may lock down the access to your workshop if you prefer.”

Tony hadn't actually thought of that yet, but it did seem like a good idea. “JARVIS,” he said, “initiate security protocol Mordor.” He turned to the visitor and grinned, but he didn't look amused. Right, alien, probably not up to date on the popular culture. “It's a reference to a movie. We can start with that one, if you—”

“One Does Not Simply Walk In.” He frowned. “I am aware, and I have seen it already.” Tony opened his mouth to reply, but Loki cut him off. “Also Star Wars, The Matrix, and Alien. I would prefer to see something new.”

“Well,” Tony said, trying not to be irritated when the alien flopped dramatically into his favorite chair and stared at him expectantly. “Then let's find you something new.”

* * *

 

It took until after the third movie for Tony to notice the noise.

He had chosen kiddie movies, mostly because he was a bit annoyed with getting this standoffish attitude from someone who had  _asked for him specifically_ , but Loki had seemed to enjoy them, at least as much as he seemed to be able to enjoy anything. They'd made it through Lilo and Stitch (“hey, it's like us, except I'm not a six year old girl and you aren't blue!” Loki had looked oddly offended at that, and said “no, I am certainly not blue” in an unexpectedly intense tone of voice), Mulan (“Sif would enjoy this,” Loki had said, but when he asked who Sif was, Loki rudely ignored him), and The Little Mermaid (Loki had seemed surprised that the mermaids didn't eat people, and he tried not to think too hard about why that might be). But now that the movies were over and Tony's attempts at conversation had fallen to silence, the slight, thunder-like rumblings had started to sound like distant explosions, the popping sounds approaching gunfire.

He pulled aside the curtains to see smoke rising in the distance, and something cold curled in his belly. “This was a distraction,” he said as the realization hit him. “You kept me in here watching  _cartoons_  like an idiot so that Iron Man wouldn't be able to stop whatever you had planned.”

He had expected Loki to react to his realization, to try to lie and deny it, or to get angry with him for figuring it out, or to try and kill him now that he was on to the scheme. Instead, he just looked resigned. “You wouldn't have been able to prevent it anyway.” He stared out the window pensively. “You couldn't prevent it before and you can't stop it now.”

He barked out the commands to summon his suit, still glaring. “I'm still going to try.”

Loki's expression wasn't quite a smile, but if it was it would be a sad one. “I know.”

“Are you gonna try and stop me?”

Loki shook his head. “I'm done with becoming involved. Do what you will.”

“Fine. Get the hell out of my house.” He didn't bother to see if Loki listened. The armor finished assembling and he threw himself out the window, cursing himself out under his breath for his own stupidity and for falling for the distraction.

* * *

 

“So if  _you_  had a genie, what would you wish for?” Tony grabbed a handful of popcorn and leaned back while Loki (and wow, it had already gotten hard to remember that this man was supposed to be an  _alien_ ) pondered the question. The end credits to Aladdin jangled loudly in the background. He turned them down so he wouldn't have to strain to hear the answer.

“If it cannot kill, I don't see much use in it,” Loki said thoughtfully, and he almost choked.

“Yikes,” he said when he caught his breath. “Never heard that one before. You really can't think of anything you want except an assassin?”

“I suppose there would be ways around the restriction.” Loki drummed his fingers against the armrest thoughtfully. “I wonder if I could wish for the genie to transport a person into the center of a burning star. I suppose then all the genie has done is move them, and it is the heat and radiation and pressure that will kill them.”

“Somehow I still think that violates the spirit of the rule,” Tony managed.

“I suppose I could simply wish for an unstoppable assassin,” Loki continued, “or to become an unstoppable assassin.”

“You don't want, I don't know, money?” Tony suggested. “World peace? A movie theater of your own so you don't have to use mine?”

Loki shook his head. “I want only one thing,” he said seriously. “And if I could not kill him I would wish for the release of death.”

Tony didn't bother trying to hide the concern in his face. “Seriously, dude, Are you okay?”

Loki laughed in a way that was not reassuring.

* * *

 

An awkward movie-watching experience had lapsed into awkward silence, and it was making Tony uncomfortable. “So,” he said into the still air of the room, “it occurs to me now that this might not have been the best movie to show a visiting alien if I wanted to present Earth in the best light.”

“No,” the alien answered, “perhaps not.”

“Well, we definitely aren't going to try and experiment on  _you_ ,” Tony said in an attempt at a jovial voice that fell flat.

“No?” the other said tonelessly.

“Well...” and then he thought about it, which was probably a mistake. It was one Tony made often: thinking before you spoke was a great idea. Thinking after, hardly ever worth it. “Maybe you should avoid the government. And certain major corporations. Just in case.”

“Reassuring,” the man murmured dryly.

“So,” Tony said into the awkward silence that followed, because it had worked so well  _last_  time, and besides he really very much wanted to change the topic. “Do you have anyone to, y'know, phone home to? Got a family and friends out there in the stars?”

His guest's face, if anything, went more blank, his posture more rigid. “No,” he snapped, “I do not.”

“C'mon, there's gotta be someone,” Tony insisted. He could feel the thread of the conversation slipping through his fingers, and it felt like losing hold of a safety line. “You told me you were Loki ‘of Asgard’. Where's Asgard? What's it like?”

It occurred to him after he said it (and really, he had to start thinking before he spoke or not at all) that a disturbing number of aliens in sci-fi were the last of their species, and somewhat touchy about it when the topic was brought up.

Loki didn't say anything, only started cleaning his fingernails with a suggestively long and sharp-looking knife. 

“C'mon,” Tony scoffed, “I know you aren't going to kill me just for asking questions.”

“Perhaps not,” Loki said, “but only because it is so very boring to watch you die.”

Normally he might have laughed, but something about the way the words were said unnerved him. It wasn't just the suggestion that the man had killed enough people to be bored of murder—though that certainly didn't help—but it sounded like he was ominously comfortable with the idea of killing Tony, in particular.

He dropped the subject, and they watched the next movie in silence.

* * *

 

The alien (yes, an actual alien, and in Tony's living room) eyed the bowls of popcorn and M&Ms on the side table with an almost snobbish distaste.

“Have you anything else?” he asked, and Tony raised an eyebrow.

“I mean, I guess I could check,” he said. “But this is staple movie-watching fare right here.”

“I tire of it,” he said, even though he hadn't even  _tried_  it yet.

“Um,” Tony said from where he was poking through the cupboards. “I have Pop-Tarts?”

“I suppose anything is worth trying once.” Except popcorn or M&Ms, apparently. Tony shrugged and slid the pastries into the toaster.

A moment later they were warm, and he put them on a plate and tried not to think about the fact that he was introducing an alien to Earth's cuisine with a Pop-Tart.

Loki took one bite and choked, making a dramatic gagging noise. “Yeah,” he said, “I tried to tell you to stick with the M&Ms. You don't have to eat it if you don't want to.” He brought a hand to his throat and kept gasping. Tony frowned. “Yeah, I get it, you don't like the Pop-Tart. You don't have to be all over-the-top about it.”

“What are the ingredients,” Loki said in a strained voice, and it hit Tony that it sort of sounded like he was having trouble breathing.

“I dunno. Wheat, I guess? Sugar? Corn syrup? Strawberries? All kinds of chemicals and crap? Crap, is some of that poisonous for aliens? I didn't even think about it.”

“Allhrrr,” Loki said, or tried to say. Allergic? This did look like it could be an allergic reaction. There was an Epi pen in his first aid kit, which was...somewhere. He had no idea if that would even work to help an alien, but it had to be better than doing nothing.

He took off at a sprint and started rummaging through the cabinets. It took until the third one for him to find the red-and-white case of his first aid kit, and even longer rooting through gauze pads and antiseptic to find the pen.

By the time he got back, Loki was sprawled and still on the floor, and not breathing. He slammed the pen into the muscle of the leg like they always did in the movies, but nothing happened. No breathing, no pulse, no moving when Tony frantically shook his shoulder. He took a deep breath and tried not to panic.

_Great job, Stark, first alien contact and you murder him with a Pop-Tart._

While he was trying to decide what to do—call SHIELD? Call an ambulance? Hide the body and speak of this to no one?—the storm that had been building outside reached a crescendo, and the glass of the window shattered inwards. A huge, menacing figure in a cape stood silhouetted against the new hole in his tower for a second before rushing forward.

“Loki?” The huge caped figure asked, and he dropped to his knees next to Tony's very dead alien. Tony held his breath while the newcomer checked for a pulse, and his eyes darkened when he didn't find one. “No. What did you  _do_?”

“Nothing!” Tony put his hands up and tried to back away slowly. He pointed, a little hysterically, towards the remains of the stupid murder pastry where it had fallen on the ground. “I only gave him a snack and this just  _happened_.” That was the worst excuse ever. Tony was definitely going to die, probably courtesy of the enormous hammer the newcomer held clenched in one fist.

“Poison,” he growled, “You poisoned him.”

“No!” Tony shook his head. “I swear I didn't. I think he might have been allergic, but I didn't know.”

He didn't seem to be listening anymore, though, or really paying much attention to Tony at all. Instead, he gently cupped the side of his friend's face for a moment, and the expression he wore somehow made him look much older than he had seemed at first.

When he stood, he reached back and unclasped his cape and laid it over the body like a shroud.

“He's your friend?” Tony asked, cursing himself internally for drawing attention to himself again.

He took a deep, shuddering breath. “My brother.” Oh. Ouch.

“I'm sorry,” Tony said, “For what it's worth.”

Loki's brother got that look again, the one that made him look somehow ancient despite everything. He reached down to rest a hand on his brother's forehead through the cloth. “As am I.”

A few moments later he gathered his brother into his arms and dove back out the window, solving Tony's debate about what to do with the body on the floor. He debated calling SHIELD, or the police, or even Pepper, but ended up flopped back on the couch and staring at the ceiling, trying to forget the look in the man's eyes when he'd pulled his brother's body closer and prepared to jump.

* * *

 

No sooner had Tony stepped into the SHIELD facility to meet this mysterious and probably evil alien they'd been telling him about when he found himself choking on blood, a dagger buried in his throat.

It made no sense, but he would've sworn he heard someone say “that's for the Pop-Tart” as the SHIELD agents swarmed in and everything went dark.

* * *

 

What kind of a person—okay, alien, but still—would immediately reject Star Wars and Indiana Jones, but agree to watch a dumb comedy movie?

It was impossible to tell if he was even enjoying it, too, because his face had gone completely blank a little ways into the movie. He looked as though he had zoned out and was actually somewhere very, very far away. It could have been the bluish light of the screen, but Tony would also swear the man had gone pale, or paler, at any rate.

“Hey, if you're not interested we can watch something else.” He lifted the remote to pause the movie, only to have it explode to shards of plastic in his hand. Tony swore and flung the chunks he still held across the room.

“Don't you dare touch it,” Loki hissed, then went back to staring at Bill Murray's face like the man held the secrets of the whole entire universe.

“Yikes,” Tony said, and he put his hands up in surrender. “You don't have to be so cranky. A ‘no thank you, Tony, I would prefer to keep watching this movie’ would have worked fine.”

“Shhh,” the man said, still watching the movie the way a hawk watches a mouse. No, it was worse than that. Crazed. Like Ahab on a whalewatching cruise.

Seriously, it was  _Groundhog Day_ , not some cinematic masterpiece. If it had been something like The Princess Bride or even Monty Python he'd have understood. Not been happy about it, no, because rude, but it would have at least made  _some_  sense.

The movie finished, the credits rolled, and when the screen went dark it plunged them into absolute silence.

“So,” Tony said, because it was awkward and his guest didn't look quite okay. “You seemed to enjoy the movie?”

It was like an explosion. The man went from zero to rage in fewer seconds than Tony would have thought was possible.

“That was the most foolish ending I have ever seen!” he screamed, and his face made it seem like he was one small reminder that Tony was in the room away from murder. The side table and a floor lamp fell violently over despite the fact that Loki was nowhere near them. “So he woos his lady friend and does his job with some semblance of competency and he is freed from the cycle of repeating days? It makes no _sense._  Why did the day repeat in the first place? How did it end?  _How did it end_?”

The television made an explosive  _bang_  noise and died in a puff of smoke. Loki was breathing hard, wild-eyed and shouting.

“Dude, calm down,” Tony tried, but all that did was zero the angry maniac's focus in on him.

“Take me to him,” he said suddenly, and the shift from raving lunacy to the illusion of calm chilled him.

“To who?” Tony asked, even though he had a feeling he knew the answer.

Loki pointed at the screen. “To him. The man from the movie. I wish to—I must speak to him.”

“You realize that isn't real, right? It's fiction. Fake. That dude is an actor.”

“Of course,” he snapped. “But there is—perhaps—it is based upon—”

“No, it's not based on anything,” he said, arguing with himself about whether or not to call the suit. Would it get here in time? Could it protect him from magic? Would crazy guy see it as a threat? “It's totally made up. That kind of thing doesn't really exist.”  _He says to the magic alien_ , something in the back of his mind reminded him.

“Oh,” he said, and curled in on himself. There was a sound—Tony couldn't tell if he was laughing or crying. He doubted Loki knew either. “Of course,” he muttered over and over again, “of course.”

“Hey.” Tony went against every instinct that screamed _danger, danger_  at him, like usual, and dropped a hand on the man's shoulder. “You okay?”

He stared off into space, still laughing or crying, and didn't answer.

* * *

 

Maybe he was off base, but the way they'd teleported over made Tony think that the alien would either love or hate Harry Potter. Either way, he kind of hoped that there would be commentary, maybe entertaining, maybe informative, maybe both.

Instead, he had fallen  _asleep_. By the end of the first movie, he had drifted off, his breathing slowly steadying into a familiar deep, slow rhythm.

Somehow the man looked less intimidating like that, sprawled motionless across an armchair with his eyes closed. Up close, his skin looked unhealthily pale, and deep, exhausted dark circles ran underneath his eyes. Smoothed out with sleep and without the careful control he kept on his expressions, his face looked almost young.

“I don't know what you're up to with all of this,” Tony muttered, “but you sure as hell look like you could use the nap.”

On impulse, Tony wandered into the next room and dragged back a blanket, then spread it out and draped it over the unconscious alien.

“Sleep good, big guy,” he said, and leaned back in his own chair. “JARVIS, play the next movie.”       

**Author's Note:**

> So I finally actually made a Tumblr! You can find me at [@aninfinenumberofmonkeys](https://aninfinitenumberofmonkeys.tumblr.com/). It's new and therefore not terribly exciting, but you're welcome to come say hi!


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